Like A Polaroid Picture
by Rider of the Whales
Summary: This was madness. His life was madness. He was a newly-minted stripper, come to spy on another newly-minted stripper to find out anything he could. 'Stripper espionage', he thought mournfully. 'My life is absurd.'
1. Chapter 1

"I really do not think this is necessary," Vio grumbled, shoving his hands deeper into the pockets of his oversized peacoat. The sunglasses he was wearing slipped down his nose, and he shoved them back up in irritation. "Why do we have to be incognito for this?"

"Come on, Vio," Blue scoffed with a roll of his eyes. "Do you really think the competition will just let us waltz in there like nothing?"

"Yes, I do, because we are paying customers."

"C'mon guys, chill out," Green said from Vio's other side, making a calming gesture with one hand (the other still slung across Vio's shoulders).

"I cannot _believe_ I am _paying_ to visit a nightclub just to watch a rival entertainer's routine," Vio mused, watching the condensation from his breath wafting away on the cold autumn breeze. "What would my mother say?"

"Probably ' _why did you become a stripper, where did I raise my darling boy wrong',_ " said Blue with a chuckle. "I know that's what _my_ mom said."

"We still don't tell her where we work," said Green ruefully. "Blue has his construction work, but I just say that I'm interning with a very profitable business and leave it at that."

"Clever," said Vio. "And technically true."

The three of them fell silent as they approached their destination: the newly opened nightclub, _Dark World_ , that had been getting raving reviews from every source possible and siphoning away their customer base. The line for the door stretched halfway around the block; there were at least five or six bouncers checking IDs at the vast double doors.

Vio could hear the music from where he stood, and as they drew closer he began to feel the bass rumbling through the soles of his boots. "I would hate to live around here," he muttered under his breath. "Imagine trying to sleep through this."

"Shoddy soundproofing," Green agreed. "I'd like to get ahold of their contractors and have a word with them."

"So, are we going to wait in line?" Vio asked, motioning towards the steadily-growing mass of people. "I for one do not fancy standing in the cold for half the night."

"Nah." Blue pulled a bundle of paper out of one pocket, separating three strips and handing one each to Green and Vio. "I got a couple of VIP passes from a friend who visited on opening night. Just hand 'em to the bouncer and he'll send you through. We'll have to separate, though—meet up by the bathrooms around 1:30, okay?"

"Wait," said Vio, nerves starting to coil in the pit of his stomach. "We are separating? I thought—"

"We're very recognizable," said Green, sounding apologetic. "Even with the sunglasses and the slouchy hats. Just relax, take in the sights, maybe get a lapdance from a hot girl, or a hot guy, whatever floats your boat. Here—" He handed Vio a thick wad of one-rupee bills.

"I don't know about this," Vio protested, but Blue put a hand on the small of his back and shoved him forward just far enough to catch the bouncer's attention. "I—ah."

"ID and pass," grunted the bouncer, holding out a thick, meaty hand.

Vio handed them over without a word.

The bouncer scanned them over with a beady eye, handed them back to Vio, and motioned him in with a jerk of his thumb. "VIP section's over the stage. Follow the purple lights up the stairs. Someone'll come by with drinks."

"Thank you," said Vio, shoving the sunglasses further up his nose as if they were armor, and entered.

The moment he stepped past the threshold the music hit him like a physical wave, thrumming in his bones, his teeth. The dance floor was packed, neon lights flickering across the walls and the floor, lighting up the air with firefly glimmers in every color imaginable.

There was indeed a walkway bordered by tiny purple lights. Vio followed it between two separate dance floors, past a bar (he paused for a moment to admire the bartender's handiwork; the man was a master at flipping bottles and showboating) and up a small staircase to a raised dais set across from the main stage.

There was a coat rack next to a circular table with five or six chairs; Vio stripped off the peacoat and tucked the sunglasses into one pocket, as it was far too dark inside to wear them. He kept the hat on, no matter how ridiculous it made him feel, and sat at the table, propping his elbow there and dropping his head into his hands.

What was he doing here? This whole ridiculous scheme had been Green and Blue's idea from the start, and the only reason that Red hadn't tagged along was because he had to watch his niece and nephew for the evening. Vio was so new to the night club, he hadn't wanted to say no and risk offending his senior coworkers, but this?

This was madness. His life was madness. He was a newly-minted stripper, come to spy on another newly-minted stripper to find out anything he could. _Stripper espionage,_ he thought mournfully. _My life is absurd._

"Hey there, handsome," said a voice next to his ear, breaking him out of his reverie. He gasped before he could help it, jerking upwards. "Woah there, babe," said whoever it was, holding out their hands in the universal gesture for "I come in peace". "You're looking pretty somber for someone surrounded by all this."

Vio took a moment to look him over. The stranger was tall, about as tall as Green and Blue from what he could estimate. They were slim, wiry almost, with shaggy chin-length hair that Vio could not tell the color of. Their nose was sharp, pointed, their eyes dark. They wore a simple t-shirt and skinny jeans that showed off the graceful lines of their legs.

"I suppose I am," said Vio warily. "This is not… I do not usually do this."

"First time?" The person (male, Vio could tell after a moment) said, sounding sympathetic. "A little overwhelming?"

"Yes," Vio nodded. "That is exactly it. There's just… so much."

"I feel ya," said the man. "Do you mind if I sit?"

"Please, feel free." Vio waved a hand at the seat beside him, and the man took it with a smile that showed almost too-many teeth.

(His canines were ever-so-slightly pointed. Vio wondered if it was just a trick of the light.)

"So," said the man, leaning a little too close into Vio's personal space. "Friends ditch you?"

"You could say that, yes." Vio shrugged, a little helpless. "I could not even begin to guess where they would be in this crowd."

"Amazing, isn't it?" The stranger looked across the sea of heads with what Vio thought might be an almost-fond expression. "They're all here to be entertained, and we have to do our best to entertain them."

"So you work here?" asked Vio before he could stop himself. "Just on your break, or haven't clocked in yet?"

"Slacking off, actually," said the man with a wolfish grin. "I've got to be back at my post in about five minutes or so. You gonna be here for a while? I'll send someone over with drinks, on the house."

"Oh, no, you don't have to—" Vio tried to protest, but the man held up one slim, calloused finger, pressing it to Vio's lips.

Vio had never thought he was the type of person who would want to have an anonymous hookup in a nightclub, but for a brief moment he fantasized about what would happen if he leaned forward, wrapped his lips around that finger, maybe nipped it, watched those dark eyes widen, get even darker, and then—

"I insist," said the man with a smirk. "I think you'll need it before the night is done." He stood up, hand on the back of Vio's chair. "Can I get your name before I go, hot stuff?"

"It's Vio," he said before he could help himself.

"Vio," the man all but purred. "I'll remember that. I'll remember _you_. Sit tight, sweet thing, your drinks will be right over."

As he walked away, Vio indulged himself by blatantly oogling his ass.

It was a _fine_ ass.

True to his word, Vio was sipping on a mojito within two minutes, watching the lights on the main stage pulse and sway. Around him the crowd was cheering, bouncing up and down to the latest music, before it cut off, lights dimming until the main stage was swathed in darkness. Instead of calming, the people grew even louder, wilder.

"And now," said a deep voice from the loudspeakers. "What you've all been waiting for—Dark World's very own Shadowed Hero!"

Every light in the nightclub switched to blacklight, every white article of clothing suddenly standing out in sharp relief. Someone screamed a cheer, someone else snapped a glowstick into life, and within moments the crowd was a sea of neon light, glowsticks flying every which way, glowstick jewelry being donned everywhere he looked.

The table under Vio's arms moved.

He jerked backwards; it slid away from him, tucking itself down into the floor, and he barely managed to rescue his mojito before it disappeared. His glass was almost empty. He drained it in a few swallows and set it on the seat beside him.

When he looked back up the man from before was there.

"Hello again, Vio," he purred, his hand reaching over to grab onto a pole rising from the floor where the table once was. "Call me Shadow."

Shadow. Dark World's headlining dancer.

Vio's stomach plummeted.

He'd ditched the shirt, Vio noted in the back of his mind as the music flared to life again and Shadow started curving himself around the pole. The lights shone off his bare torso, outlining every little ridge of muscle, the curve of his biceps, the ripple of his abdomen as he reached upwards, grabbed the pole, and pulled himself off the ground as if he weighed nothing.

The crowd went wild. Vio could see Shadow's wolfish grin as he spun, pulled himself up until he could wrap the back of his knee around the pole, twirling until he was upside down, then releasing it with his hands and gesturing to the crowd, a little "gimme" motion.

Dollar bills flooded the stage, and over the music Vio heard Shadow laugh.

Perhaps the mojito gave him courage; perhaps he just found it on his own, but Vio pulled the wad of bills from his pocket, teased one out, crumpled it for maximum aerodynamics, and the next time Shadow flipped his way he tossed it so it landed smack on the bridge of his nose.

Shadow's eyes locked on his. With the lights bright on them, Vio saw they were a deep wine-red.

As if it was choreographed (who knew, perhaps it was), Shadow eeled down from the pole, graceful as a cat, his pants loose around his hips. He made a motion—a little wiggle, some sort of shimmy—spun back around, hooked himself around the pole once more, a quick motion, a full-body ripple, and his pants were flying off into the crowd, landing on one lucky person's face.

He turned his attention back to Vio.

Vio couldn't stop staring.

Every inch of him was toned, muscular, and Vio could see it _all_ , dressed as Shadow was in nothing more than skin-tight silver-toned briefs. The music pulsed and Shadow wriggled, pale and muscled and _perfect_ , red eyes flashing with humor and exhilaration at the cheers from the crowd.

Vio lost himself briefly in the music, in the mood, watched Shadow swing and flip and contort himself into what looked like impossible positions, one hand casually grabbing his abandoned mojito glass and holding it in front of himself.

Then Shadow slid down again, both feet on the floor, turning to face Vio with a predatory expression.

Vio swallowed.

He approached, slowly, hips swinging, nudging chairs aside until he had a clear ring around Vio. The crowd cheered all the louder, as if in anticipation of what was about to happen.

"I promised you a good time," said Shadow, leaning over Vio's chair from behind, his breath tickling the tip of Vio's pointed ear. Vio couldn't stop his full-body shudder.

"This is not precisely what I had in mind," he said, hoarse.

Shadow only chuckled. "Just you wait, hot stuff."

Then the music started again and he spun around, dropped to his knees in front of Vio. The blacklight set every single tooth gleaming as he ran his hands up Vio's thighs, his chest, curled them into Vio's hair and tugged his head down as he undulated his hips.

Vio took a quiet moment to admire Shadow's complete control of his body, and also to try and quell the erection threatening to break the zipper of his pants. When Shadow let go he took a deep breath in relief, thinking he was going to head back to the pole, back towards the crowded masses cheering his name.

Instead Shadow grabbed a second fistful of his hair and dragged him into what could only loosely be called a kiss.

It was openmouthed, hot and filthy, Shadow practically fucked his mouth with his tongue (which proved to be just as dexterous as the rest of his body) and when he pulled away Vio couldn't breathe.

"Meet me by the back as soon as I'm done," Shadow whispered into his ear, taking the tip into his mouth and running his tongue along the shell. "Head straight past the main stage and just to the side of the bar."

Vio could only nod. Shadow rewarded him with a nip to the ear, making him shiver again. He could barely concentrate through the rest of Shadow's routine, only looking up when the music lowered and the crowd noise grew.

The regular lights returned, the DJs starting the music once more. Vio sat until he could be sure his legs would not give out under him, then grabbed his peacoat, folding it and holding it in front of himself as he slipped through the crowd. He followed Shadow's directions exactly; the bouncer at the "NO ENTRY ALLOWED" door looked him over and then motioned him through with a nod of his head.

The back rooms were dimly lit; Vio emerged into a hallway filled with costumes. He followed it until it met with another hall, doors along each side. One opened—Shadow grinned at him from around the doorframe and beckoned him forth. In the normal fluorescent lights, his hair was a deep purple.

 _What are you doing,_ Vio asked himself helplessly. _You came here to observe, to map out exits, to calculate numbers, not to fuck the headliner in the back of his dressing room. What are you_ _ **doing?**_

He received nothing but a mental shrug in return, and with his heart in his throat he stepped inside.

Shadow closed the door after him, took his coat and draped it on a nearby desk. He'd put pants back on, Vio was happy to see (or was he? He couldn't decide), but his shirt hung unbuttoned from his shoulders, exposing a creamy pale swath of skin from neck to hips. Vio tried his hardest not to look, to keep his eyes up towards Shadow's face.

"Why—" he started, cringing a bit when his voice caught. "Why did you…"

"Kiss you?" Shadow asked, lounging against the door, his thumbs hooked into his pockets. Every inch of him looked boneless, and Vio would have thought him relaxed if it wasn't for the intentness of his eyes. He shrugged. "You're hot, you looked lonely, and I promised you a good time. Was it good for you, baby?" he leered.

"Do not call me baby," Vio said flatly, and Shadow tipped his head back and laughed. Vio entertained a brief fantasy of licking his way up that neck, biting into the hollow behind his ear.

Shadow stepped forward, still chuckling, and cupped his hand around Vio's jaw. "Alright," he said, "I won't call you baby. For now. You never answered me, though."

"It…was good, yes," said Vio after a long moment's pause. He leaned into the hand, very slightly, and Shadow's thumb stroked his cheek.

"Good," said Shadow, and leaned forward to kiss him again. It was a much gentler kiss, with much less showboating—a simple brush of lips, Shadow's breath warm against his skin. Vio leaned into him, his arms tentatively coming up to wrap around Shadow's waist. Shadow hummed in approval, deepened the kiss, and Vio opened up to him.

They spent a pleasant few minutes, Shadow's hand sneaking under Vio's shirt, resting warm on his hips as he mouthed his way along Vio's jaw, Vio's hand cupping the back of his neck. He was tentatively reaching towards the bare skin of Shadow's torso when a knock at the door made him jump.

Shadow sighed, rolled his eyes, and didn't move. "What?" he called.

"Manager wants to see you," said a voice from the other side, and Shadow groaned.

"Tell him I'll be there in ten," he said, leaning back down to give Vio one last kiss. "Duty calls," he said, and Vio could see honest regret on his face. "Gimme your phone."

"What," said Vio, mind still catching up, but Shadow had a hand in his pocket before he could make a move. He dialed something. A phone rang on the other side of the room.

"Good. My number's in your phone now. I'll call you," said Shadow. "If that's alright, that is."

Vio ran a hand through his mussed hair, trying to get it in some semblance of order. "Yes," he said slowly, surprised. "Please do. On the other hand, if this is how you treat all your VIP customers, please do not."

Shadow smiled, a softer look than the others Vio had seen tonight. "Nah," he said. "Just the hot new spy from the strip club down the street."

While Vio sputtered, he buttoned up his own shirt, running a hand through his hair, and kissed Vio square on the mouth. "See you around," he said. "You can get out the way you came. Tell your hot coworkers I said hi."

With that he left, and after a moment to compose himself Vio did the same, meeting up with Green and Blue at the bathrooms like they'd planned. He said nothing about what he'd been doing, merely listened to them talk about the shape of the rooms, the maximum capacity, the length of the bar and the types of alcohol, and how the glowsticks were a neat touch.

When they came to the subway he parted with a wave, riding the train back to his apartment, replaying the night back over again in his head.

Here now, away from the music and the alcohol and the allure of Shadow's eyes, he could be objective. He'd been caught up in the moment, caught up in the almost electric attraction that he'd felt for Shadow, and that Shadow had very clearly returned. It was flattering, to say the least.

And yet.

He'd practically been dry-humping Vio on stage. Vio flushed at the memory; he couldn't believe he'd just sat there and let it happen.

 _You were drunk,_ he tried to reconcile himself. _You were drunk and distracted, and he really is very attractive._

And yet.

He didn't know if he wanted Shadow to call him. He didn't know anything about him, aside from his eyes and his body…and his kindness towards a lone, uncomfortable stranger.

Of course, making him _more_ uncomfortable had been anything but kind. Vio shook his head to clear his mind, getting off at his stop, and walked the few blocks back to his apartment trying to think of nothing at all.

Tomorrow, at work, he'd discuss most of what he'd found out with the others. Nayru would be scandalized to hear of the disappearing table. Din would love the blacklight idea. Red would want to buy as many glowsticks as possible.

Farore would want him to demonstrate, Hylia help him.

Hours later, when he was in bed, he received a text message, containing a picture of his stupid slouchy hat resting atop messy purple hair.


	2. Chapter 2

The beanie looks fantastic on him.

The rest of his outfit he hates; he'd tried to insist that no, he _didn't_ need to go undercover, no one could see his hair under the beanie anyway and it's not like he'd be striding in there bare-ass naked but _nooo,_ the manager _insisted,_ so here he is smothered in the worst looking sweater he's ever laid eyes on and sunglasses he really doesn't need, all to go spy on the hot new stripper since he won't return Shadow's calls.

Rude.

He flashes ID at the bouncer with a roll of his eyes; the man takes it, scans it, and hands it back. He tucks it in his pocket. With jeans this tight, there's no way it'll slip out.

Once inside he shrugs off the sweater with a sigh of relief. He promised to wear it to the club, but there's no damn way he'll swelter inside that monstrosity all damn evening. He checks it at the coat check (the girl on duty gives him a look of surprise but not recognition; maybe the sunglasses were a good idea after all).

The main floor is smaller than his club, Shadow notes with an air of smugness, but he can see several rooms branching off to the sides, all only a little smaller than the central one. There's music playing, loud and deep, and the dance floor is crammed full of people getting their groove thing on. Their lighting is fantastic; he wonders who their contractor was.

He takes a seat at the bar, shoves his sunglasses up his nose, and flashes a smile at the overworked bartender. "Jack and coke," he calls over the music. The guy nods, takes a few more orders down the bar, and in less than 90 seconds it's sitting in front of him, moisture beading on the glass and a little purple umbrella sitting on the rim.

He raises an eyebrow. The bartender points to "LUAU NIGHT" scribbled in big neon letters on a blacklight whiteboard above the alcohol.

Shadow shrugs, picks it up and licks it off before tucking it behind his ear, lodged in the beanie. People are eyeing him; he relishes it, and grins as he takes a sip.

Drink in hand, he wanders the room; gets up tight behind a girl and dances for a minute or two as she flashes a grin at him, then slides away between a couple of guys who give him a leer. He sticks his tongue out and waggles it, lifts his shades and winks, is gone before they can do more than laugh.

A door at the end of the room leads to the bathrooms; he's feeling a little hot by now, though the air has a nice chill to it, and he sets his drink down while he pisses, washes his hands, and splashes his face.

He squints, the brightness of the fluorescents making his head pound. Red eyes stare back at him, purple hair swept up in that fantastic beanie so he looks like a hipster douche.

Which is exactly the way he wants to look right now.

He snaps a picture, complete with duckface, and sends it to Vio. He waits five minutes; no answer.

Excellent.

He _must_ be working, then.

Shadow goes on the prowl.

* * *

Half an hour later and he's still on the prowl, and disgruntled. He's checked everywhere- there's a dude with massive muscles and the brightest blue eyes he's seen entertaining on the main floor, the emcee practically creaming herself over his bod, and a private party in a side room where this cute young thing is strutting his stuff for a herd of middle-aged broads.

No Vio yet, and no answer from him, either. He's _got_ to be here.

He slips back into a service hallway when no one's looking, adrenaline like lightning sending pricks up and down his spine, starts poking into dressing rooms and sitting rooms and private rooms and nothing, no tousle-haired blond, no glasses-wearing smartass waiting to verbally spar with him, like they have been all week.

Except then he hears voices, sees a light from behind a cracked door, and he creeps up to it with the stealth born of years of practice. He peers through the crack in the door.

Ah ha! There's his Vio, wearing nothing more than yoga shorts, glasses, and a frown. Damn nice view, it is. Shadow smirks, pulls the hat down around his ears, reaches an arm out to push the door open more-

"Just try it again," someone says from beyond his viewfield. He jerks his hand back as if stung.

Another blond steps into sight. He's shirtless too, wearing green basketball shorts and an intense look. "It's really not that hard," he says, voice low and warm, and _damn_ , that _voice_. Shadow wouldn't kick him out of bed for eating crackers, especially if he was narrating it. "C'mon, Vi, try it again. I know you can do it."

"Perhaps I am just not that flexible," Vio says, clearly in a snitfit the size of the moon. Shadow thinks about _Vio_ and _flexible_ with a few other connotations.

"You really are, I've seen some of your pole work," says tall-blond-and-hunky.

Shadow is mature enough to admit he's not mature enough to listen to that with a straight face. He stifles a snort into his palm.

"It is far different when one has something to support one's self with," argues Vio, uncrossing one arm to gesture at something out of Shadow's line of sight. "Can we just get on with it?"

"Vi, come on, just watch me do it one more time, I know you can get it down," the other one says, and he folds his arms behind his head and _ripples_ from his thighs up through his abs, a sinuous full-body flex with his feet planted on the ground. Shadow'd bet a thousand rupees there's no way that _those_ hips would lie.

"Yes, I see this," says Vio with an irritated set to his mouth, wiry arms folded over chiseled torso, "and yet I still am unsure how you manage to stay so fluid."

"Here," says the other blond, and steps behind him, _right_ up behind him, hips almost nestled to Vio's ass, and isn't that a nice sight to see? Shadow entertains a brief lewd thought before green-pants grabs Vio by the hips and _ripples_ again, hands smoothing up Vio's bare skin as he guides him.

The green one does it again, slower this time, and Vio's furrowed brow and look of concentration is something that's gonna give Shadow some damn nice nights in the future. "Like that?" Vio says, tilting his head over his shoulder to look Greeny in the eye, and _unf._

Shadow takes a moment to adjust himself in his pants. When he peeks in again, they've separated. Damn.

…he should probably get out of here before someone catches him. Wouldn't wanna get kicked out on his first jaunt in.

* * *

Vio's phone buzzes again.

And again.

And _again._

He breaks away from Green's gentle hold with a muttered apology, stalking over to where it lays on top of his neatly-folded pile of clothes. He does not have time for this distraction, he needs to finish this move set Green is attempting to teach him by next week, when he has his first individual entertainment session, and all this buzzing is not helping.

He turns on the screen.

 _ **16 new messages from "Hot Rival Stripper"**_

 _-viiii_

 _-vi im so bored_

 _-talk to me boo_

 _-vi u work too much_

 _-or are u jerkin it_

 _-if u are u can tell me_

 _-whatre u thinkin bout_

 _-is it me_

 _-its ok if its me i dont mind i think its hot_

 _-i think ur hot_

 _-id jerk it to u_

 _-thats a compliment btw_

 _-i havent yet cuz thats rude u gotta ask first_

 _-im not tryin to objectify u btw i like u 4 more than ur sweet bod_

 _-wow nothing? u must really be buzy_

 _\- call me l8r i wanna hear ur voice xoxo gossip girl_

Vio very carefully puts down the phone before he throws it against the wall. This is the last thing he wants to deal with right now.

"Bad news?" says Green, and Vio jumps. "Sorry, you just looked like you'd bit into a lemon."

"Not bad news," says Vio with a sigh, scrubbing a hand across his face.

"Girlfriend problems?" Green asks sagely, plopping down into the nearest chair. "Or boyfriend problems?" He tosses Vio a bottle of water, a gentle underhand lob that Vio nonetheless fumbles and drops. "Sit down, have a break. I've been working you too hard lately, my bad."

"No, it is fine." Vio sits next to him, unscrews the cap and drains half the bottle in a single go. "Not ….quite boyfriend issues, I suppose.

"Fuckbuddy?" Green waggles his eyebrows.

"No!"

"Oooh, did I hit a nerve? Future fuckbuddy, maybe? Just haven't gotten down to it yet?"

"You are surprisingly interested in my sex life," says Vio icily.

"I gotta know what my mentee is up to in his spare time!" Green laughs a little. "I haven't heard you talk about any of your friends lately, so this is new and good. If you need to take some time off from this to do other stuff—"

Vio cuts him off with a wave of his hand. "I cannot afford to," he says softly. "Besides, between you and Red I think I get all the social interaction I need."

Green chuckles, leans back in his seat with his elbows on the table behind him. "True," he says, and stretches.

Vio clinically watches the bow of his spine, the arch of his shoulders, his chin tipped back as he groans with the release of tensed muscles. Green is, objectively and subjectively, gorgeous, and there is nothing wrong with appreciating that, aesthetically speaking.

That is, until Green arches just that tiniest bit more, pops his back, and lets out a moan.

Vio is good at feigning studied disinterest, but not _that_ good. "I will return shortly," he says as he shoves his chair back, and leaves the room as quickly as his pride will let him.

* * *

"You did great tonight, Blue!" Red says with one of the widest grins known to man, draping himself over the back of Blue's chair like a warm human blanket. He dangles a cold bottle of water in front of Blue's nose. Blue grabs it and presses it to the underside of his chin, groaning in relief.

"Thanks," he says, more out of habit than anything. "I fumbled the second set, though, missed my timing."

"No one cared! They just wanted to watch you move, and did you ever! You've been working on that hands-free pole twirl, haven't you? It's looking fantastic!"

"Thanks," Blue says again, more in a mumble this time; Red's constant praise always makes him feel awkward, especially when he turns his head and that cute freckled nose of his is barely an inch away from his. "You, uh, how did your room go tonight?" he asks, as much to change the subject than anything.

Red's grin turns sly as he pulls a fistful of cash from the pocket of his sweatpants, dropping it nonchalantly over Blue's head. "They made it rain," he says solemnly, "and I made it rain men."

Blue stifles a groan. "I can't believe you just said that with a straight face."

Red bursts into giggles and pulls away as Blue dusts the bills off his shoulders. "I-it was h-h-hard!" he gasps between the laughter, and Blue takes the opportunity to chug the water while he can. It settles cool and comforting in his stomach; he never eats anything before a show, with all the pole work he does it might just come back up again, and that's a recipe for disaster.

A flyer on the table next to him catches his eye; he picks it up and gives it a quick once-over. Then a slower, more thorough perusal. "Din didn't tell me she'd gotten the new promo flyers done already," he says, wrinkling his nose. "Did they have to use the picture of me in the pirate shirt though? It looks ridiculous."

"No it doesn't!" Red is quick to come to his defense (against himself, he can't help but smile a bit), leaning back in over his shoulder. His hair tickles the side of Blue's neck. "That shirt makes you look _fantastic,_ and don't you doubt it! Besides, she put the one of me in the bunny ears in without even asking," he adds with a moue of disgust. "Those fishnets made my butt look huge."

"Your butt looks fine," says Blue without thought.

"Aw, Blue," Red coos, a grin far too sharp spreading across his face. "Spend a lot of time looking at my butt, do you?"

Tactical mistake. Blue gulps. "How can I not," he says as nonchalantly as he can. "You work in a _strip club."_

"Touché!" Red winks and bumps his forehead against Blue's, sliding back to grab a flyer of his own.

Blue sighs in relief at the narrowly-avoided disaster and chucks the empty water bottle into the nearest trash can, and winces when it pulls at his shoulder in a way that says he'll be icing it all night. He should've iced it last night, but he was busy working with Nayru and the budget for the upcoming month, and by then it was nearly 4 AM so he'd had to catch a few hours of sleep…

"What's wrong?" says Red right next to his ear, and he jumps, barely stifling a swear. "Oh, sorry! I didn't mean to startle you, but you were rubbing at your shoulder again."

"It's nothing," Blue shrugs, which stings, but he grits his teeth and bares it. "Little sore, but I'm gonna go home and shower, rub some Icy-Hot on it, it'll be fine."

Red bites his lip. He looks adorable in his too-large t-shirt and baggy sweatpants, duffel bag slung over his shoulders. "You sure?" he asks, and he sounds tentative, and Blue doesn't understand why. "Do you need me to look it over for you?" and _boy_ that shouldn't sound as tempting as it does for all the wrong reasons. Red's taken at least two massage therapy classes and keeps pestering Blue to let him practice on him, and Blue's taken him up on the offer, but he doesn't know how much he could stand tonight of Red pressed against him, Red's hands warm on his bare skin as he kneads into his back.

"Nah," Blue grits out instead. "Thanks, though. You heading home? Need a ride?"

"The subway should still be running, and it's only a few blocks from there to my apartment," says Red with a smile. "I'll see you tomorrow?"

"Of course," says Blue, and dredges up a smile. Red beams back at him, pats him on the bicep, and leaves.

Blue watches him go.

* * *

 _ **2 new messages from "too hot (hot damn)"**_

 _-I apologize, I was indeed working when you messaged me. This is the first time I have been able to catch a break._

 _-Change my contact information back at once. What you have now is ridiculous. And stop screenshotting our conversations and putting them on tumblr. What I write to you I assume will be kept between us._

 _ **message from you**_

 _-aw bb dont b mad_

 _-i just wanted all my peeps to see how mad cute u write_

 _ **new message from "too hot (hot damn)"**_

 _-Regardless, I would appreciate it if you would cease._

 _ **message from you**_

 _-alright, i got u_

 _-so what were u doin that had u so wrapped up_

 _ **new message from "too hot (hot damn)"**_

 _-I was attempting to drill some of the basics of belly dancing. The core work is brutal. I do not know if I will be able to bend over tomorrow, my abs are so sore._

 _ **message from you**_

 _-that sux, i know that feel_

 _-speakin of bending over ;)_

 _ **new message from "too hot (hot damn)"**_

 _-No._

 _ **message from you**_

 _-aw but bb y_

 _-u didnt even wait 4 me to say it :T_

 _-maybe i just wanted to bend u over and give u a nice friendly massage_

 _-so u wouldnt be so sore 2moro_

 _ **new message from "too hot (hot damn)"**_

 _-I rather doubt it would stay friendly for long._

 _ **message from you**_

 _-but how do u know_

 _-my friendly hands could be so friendly 2 u boo_

 _-slide right down ur back and stop at a friendly distance from dat ass_

 _-slide right back up_

 _-all platonic in this bitch_

 _ **new message from "too hot (hot damn)"**_

 _-Is this the point where I say "haha and then what :)" ?_

 _ **message from you**_

 _-no this is the point where u ask me what im wearing and i say "nothing"_

 _-and then i make this face_

 _\- ;)_

 _ **new message from "too hot (hot damn)"**_

 _-Charming. So are you indeed wearing nothing? It is rather cold for that at this time of year._

 _ **message from you**_

 _-nah i got my jam jams on_

 _-and ur beanie ;)_

 _ **picture message from you**_

 _ **new message from "too hot (hot damn)"**_

 _-Do you really call them 'jam jams'? I am astounded._

 _-Are those ducks?_

 _ **message from you**_

 _-damn right theyre ducks_

 _-damn right theyre jam jams_

 _-why what do u call em_

 _ **new message from "too hot (hot damn)"**_

 _-Pajamas. Sleepwear. Anything but 'jam jams'. How old are you?_

 _ **message from you**_

 _-ooo old enoug touch my hot ass and not get arrested_

 _-old enough 4 me 2 touch UR hot ass and not get arrested probably_

 _ **new message from "too hot (hot damn)"**_

 _-Alright. If that is the way it is to be, then have a pleasant rest of night._

 _ **message from you**_

 _-no no no dont do that_

 _-im 24 hbu_

 _ **new message from "too hot (hot damn)"**_

 _-I am twenty._

 _ **message from you**_

 _-oh damn robbin the cradle_

 _-u still in college?_

 _ **new message from "too hot (hot damn)"**_

 _-yes. I attend the nearby university three days a week. I am working towards a degree in psychology, before you ask._

 _ **message from you**_

 _-hot_

 _-really tho good 4 u_

 _-u get dat degree_

 _-bet ud look hot in a suit n tie_

 _-in ur psych office_

 _-scribblin on a notepad_

 _-wearin those glasses_

 _-i got distracted thinkin bout ur glasses_

 _-ur mad hot in those glasses_

 _-vi? u still there?_

 _ **new message from "too hot (hot damn)"**_

 _-Yes, apologies again. I got distracted as well. I believe it is time for me to retire for the evening._

 _ **message from you**_

 _-aw bb dont go_

 _-or if u do go think of me when u dream ;)_

 _ **new message from "too hot (hot damn)"**_

 _-Perhaps I will. Goodnight, Shadow._

 _ **message from you**_

 _-gdi vio u cant leave me like that_

 _ **new message from "too hot (hot damn)"**_

 _-w atc h me ;)_

 _ **message from you**_

 _-fffffucjk_


End file.
